


Honest Broker

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Dating, F/M, First Time, Meddling, Miscommunication, Porn, Running, Sexual Inexperience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 07:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: "You're a good and honorable man with unimpeachable integrity. She needs that right now. Plus, you're smokin' hot and Michael hasn't gotten laid inmonths.""Okay," Chris jumped in, shutting that right down. "That should be private.""Oh, see, you're new. 'Private' doesn't apply to me. I go around being awesome at everyone, figuring out what's up and then fixing it," Tilly said, like it was a law passed down from God Himself.





	Honest Broker

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a snarky Pike and Tilly bro-fic and then Michael's horrifying adolescence crashed down on it and this happened. Set after 2.02 "New Eden." Also posted [here](https://alethia.dreamwidth.org/1035872.html).

"But mushrooms?" Chris asked Stamets dubiously, not for the first time. And purposefully so because watching Stamets' irritation flare at being asked the same thing over and over was highly entertaining. 

Chris had to have his fun somewhere. If that was in poking irascible engineering officers, there were worse things.

"For the last time, yes. Is the translator malfunctioning? Do I need to run a diagnostic?" Stamets shot back, like he actually would, if only to get out of this conversation. 

"I'm just saying, these don't look like mushrooms," he said, turning the glowing spore cannister in hand from where he leaned against one of the consoles. 

"Do tell, what does the foundation of the universe look like?"

Michael walked in then, her stride hitching at sight of them, but she kept moving. Chris' eyes flicked to the sway of her hips, but then he dropped them to the cannister in hand, controlling himself. 

"Captain," Michael greeted. "Aren't you off duty?" 

Chris looked over at her. She was aware of his schedule. Interesting. "Indeed."

Michael looked to the spore cannister he held and figured it out. "Done taking it on faith, sir?"

"You should approve. You spent the last day questioning the very notion of faith."

Michael smiled. "Touché, sir."

Chris smiled back, then nodded to the cannister. "If I'm going to rely on something, I like to understand it. Commander Stamets is indulging me."

"With extreme prejudice," Stamets offered, still delightfully harried. 

Chris turned to him, letting his amusement show. "The thing I like about you, Commander, is that your disdain is equal opportunity."

"Because everyone wastes my time equally." He turned to Michael. "You're here now. You explain it." Then he was gone.

Chris turned to Michael. "But mushrooms?" he asked again, just to get the smile. 

She didn't disappoint, flashing him a small grin before shaking her head. "People have made all the jokes. Psychotropic and sexual. There is no new ground here."

"I defer to your comprehensive knowledge of mushroom jokes," he said, dry. 

It got another smile, warming him dangerously. He really was distractingly intrigued by her. 

The doors to test bay alpha opened again, Tilly walking in. She spotted the two of them, pulling up short. "Oh, sorry, I was just—um, it's time for the level-three diagnostic," she said, like it was a question. 

Chris shot her a reassuring look. "Don't mind me. I'm just giving myself homework." Tilly nodded and continued to her station, diving into the controls. 

Michael studied him, seemingly interested in that, but she didn't comment. Instead she asked, "How far did Stamets get?"

Chris waved his hands expansively. "A microscopic plane that encompasses everything...made of mushrooms," he said, disbelief in his voice. 

"Spores, actually. And you can be as dubious as you like, you've already traveled through it."

"A likely story," he joked, getting another half-smile. "So why spores?"

"They're the building blocks of energy across the universe. They allowed Stamets to treat physics as biology, opening a whole new branch of science."

"No wonder he implied I was an idiot at least three times in ten minutes."

"Well, you did start your tenure on this ship by announcing you'd failed Astrophysics."

"Because it's charming and relatable," he said, light. 

"You failed the course on stars in _Star_ fleet."

"Given my deficiency with a wrench, I fail on the 'fleet' side of that, too. Why _do_ they put up with me?"

"I wasn't going to say it..." she said, prim. 

Chris laughed. Her answering smile warmed something deep and visceral, the same way it had every time she'd challenged him, every time he'd caught her looking his way. He hadn't felt this kind of focused _interest_...in a while.

Ah, screw it. 

"I'd love to hear more about your various jumps. Join me for dinner?" he asked, making sure his tone said it was a request and not an order. 

Michael tilted her head, but didn't really react otherwise. "I've got an internal diagnostic report to review tonight. In fact, I should get to it. Captain," she said, nodding respectfully before striding out.

It stung a little, Chris could admit that. But the depth of his disappointment, now that was surprising. On some level, he'd been...hoping. He hadn't even realized he'd allowed himself to hope until it was taken away. Funny how that worked sometimes. 

Chris considered. He certainly read that one wrong...but hell, he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. At least now he had clarity.

"That wasn't what it looked like," Tilly said from her diagnostic panel, abrupt.

"I'm sorry?" Chris asked, turning in surprise.

Tilly nodded at the closed door. "Michael. She didn't just turn you down."

Chris paused, not sure how to handle this. "I think she was pretty clear."

"Yeah, I know that's what you got, but you two were having really different conversations," Tilly said, sighing like this was a common occurrence. 

Chris blinked. "I don't follow."

Tilly leaned against the control panel, like she was settling in. "Okay, sixty-second hypothetical—"

"Why am I doubting that timeline," he muttered. 

Tilly just continued on: "Your parents are killed as a child and you're sent to live on a planet full of robot people, let's call them Shmulcans."

"Whatever could you be talking about," he said, deadpan. 

But Tilly was determined. "There, you're the only human among, again, _robots_ , who have telepathic connections you're totally cut off from. Oh, and you face loads of violent threats while also having basically no emotional support system. Do you think that kid grows up to understand the nuances of human interaction?"

Chris considered. She did have a point. "You're saying she didn't understand my true intention."

"I'm saying she doesn't know not to tell people they don't look good in a dress much less the distinction between a dinner invite for food's sake and for a relationship's sake."

He shot her a knowing look. "Something on your mind there, Ensign?"

"No, because I am a forgiving and empathetic soul." Chris actually believed that, for all that she said it like a joke. 

He thought it over. She was saying that hadn't been a rejection. She was saying there was still hope. 

What was that old saw? "Once bitten, twice shy." _Was_ there any point in pushing it?

"Why do you care about this?" he asked, soft. "It doesn't affect you. You could just move on and things would be fine."

"I checked you out."

Chris stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"Calm down, not like that." Tilly considered. "Okay, totally like that because you're hot and I'm alive, but also, I checked you out with your first officer."

Chris closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. Then he looked back to Tilly. "God help me, I actually want to see that conversation."

"Yeah, for the record, Una's the best. We're total shield sisters now, gonna grab shore leave on Risa together, where we shall intellectually intimidate all the tactical bros into getting on their knees for us," Tilly said, oversharing as she was wont to do. Or so he figured. He hadn't known her very long, but it had happened often enough...

"Poor guys don't stand a chance," Chris muttered, getting an approving look from Tilly before she continued on:

"My point is I checked you out. You're a good and honorable man with unimpeachable integrity. She needs that right now. Plus, you're smokin' hot and Michael hasn't gotten laid in _months_."

" _Okay_ ," Chris jumped in, shutting that right down. "That should be private."

"Oh, see, you're new. 'Private' doesn't apply to me. I go around being awesome at everyone, figuring out what's up and then fixing it," Tilly said, like it was a law passed down from God Himself. 

"That what you're doing with me right now?" he asked, speculative.

She didn't even hesitate: "Abso-freaking-lutely."

Interesting. Chris cocked his head and made a little proceed gesture. "Do tell."

"You're feeling guilty for missing the war and need something good to remind you life is worth it." Chris winced, but Tilly didn't seem to notice, continuing on: "Michael's feeling guilty for starting the war and licking her wounds from a dude who betrayed her in an epically shitty way." Ah, yes, the mythical Tyler. Chris had barely even plugged into the gossip network of the ship and he'd heard about that. Not just the Voq revelation, but some unspecified bad behavior even after Voq was gone. 

But Tilly _still_ wasn't done: "You'd be good for each other. Plus, there's some poetry to that, right? Guilty for missing the war, guilty for starting it."

Chris shifted, slightly discomfited at the accuracy of that assessment. He reminded himself again not to fall for appearances with Tilly. Her bubbly nature was like a magic trick, distracting you from the keen intellect underneath. Chris was a little chagrined he fell for it. 

"In none of this have I heard that she's interested," he said quietly.

"Oh, did I not say? She's totally obsessed with you. Why do you think I checked you out?" The doubt must have shown on his face because Tilly leaned forward, intent. "Seriously. I've never seen her so focused on another person. She's always watching you." 

Chris blinked, surprised to have that confirmed. He'd felt her eyes on him more than seemed warranted...but that could also be wishful thinking, his own projection. "Well, I'm the captain. And a window into her brother."

Tilly frowned as she stared at him, visibly working it through. "Wait, is this uncertainty? Are you unsure of yourself? This is _fascinating_. Talk some more." She made a little demanding gesture at him, somehow both imperious and charming. 

Chris didn't take the bait. "I'm just saying that Michael may be more perceptive than you're giving her credit for."

Tilly scoffed. "You don't know her as well as I do. With anyone else, she's a freaking genius. But her blind spot is herself. Trust me, she is totally transfixed by your ass and that is not normal for her."

Embarrassingly, Chris felt himself flush at that, ruffled like he hadn't been in ages. He'd accepted years ago how he looked and how people responded, always moving right along, wrapped in cool professionalism. But somehow the idea of applying that to Michael...

"Oh, my god, this is adorable," Tilly said like it was the best thing that had happened to her all day. 

Chris shook his head at her. "I have no words."

"You get used to that feeling." Tilly nodded, like this was right and proper. "Don't worry, sir. I'll handle this."

***

Chris put it out of his mind, letting Tilly do...whatever she did. All he could control was himself. And he had a job to do. 

He was just getting into preliminary resupply requests in his ready room—his absolute _favorite_ bit of bureaucracy—when the comm system interrupted:

"Bryce to Captain Pike."

"Pike here," he said absently, noting the ship's abnormally high churn through birth control measures for the past quarter. Apparently people had responded to the various crises by fucking their way through it. 

The _Discovery_ really needed a ship's counselor. 

"Your first officer for you, sir," Bryce said. 

Chris stilled, considering. Reading resupply reports or scolding Una. Tough choice. "Put her through. Secure channel, please."

"Yes, sir." Bryce signed off and a moment later a hologram of Una appeared. 

Chris set his PADD aside and smiled, tight. "Oh, good. Let's chat."

Una tilted her head, smirking at him. "You sly dog."

"Yes, I hear you've been talking to my crew behind my back," he said, voice testy. 

Una raised one perfect brown eyebrow. "Hey, Ensign Tilly called me. I'm not the one asking out science officers and sending everyone into a tizzy."

"There was no—"

"Keep telling yourself that," she said, dry like only she could do. 

Chris folded his hands, sighing deeply, aware he had already lost control of this conversation. "I may have made a tactical error."

"Disagree. This is a good thing." Una shook her head like she was certain, no room for disagreement. 

If only Chris were. "How could you possibly—"

"Sylvia and I had a _talk_. I haven't had the pleasure with Michael yet, but anyone friends with Tilly has my approval."

Chris closed his eyes briefly. " _Yet_."

"You didn't think you'd be getting out of that, did you?" she asked, studying him. Then her expression cleared. "Chris, you're adorable."

He sighed, knowing how she got when she put her mind to something. "Would it do anything to ask you to lay off?"

"I can promise discretion," she said, like she was being generous. 

Which, well. If she was offering, that meant he could take it to the bank. "I suppose that'll have to do."

"I am proud of you, you know," she said, soft. "Talos knocked you for a loop. It's high time you put it behind you."

Chris held up a staying hand. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"No, we can never do that," she agreed, like he was being ridiculous. "Although, I will say, Spock's sister?"

"It wasn't...planned," he said, helpless, having had the very same thought. There were so many reasons why his interest in Michael was a bad idea. 

And yet. 

"I'll be sure to tell him that. 'No no, Spock, he isn't banging the female version of you, I promise.'"

Chris winced. When you put it like that... 

Una blinked at him, almost stricken. "You're not having a sexuality crisis, are you?" Her horror seemed less at the idea than that she was only finding out now. 

"No, I am not sublimating some desire for Spock by wanting Michael," he said, long-suffering. "You know I don't generally go for men."

Una settled a little, tilting her head. "Still. It _is_ his sister."

Chris shook his head, considering it. "She is like him in some ways. In others..." She was so different, such depth of feeling there. The same compelling brilliance, but her eyes gave her away.

Una blinked at him. "Really."

He knew that tone of voice. Irritation flashed through him. "Did you think I was just trolling for a good time?"

Una shrugged. "It's been a while. And men get weird about their dicks."

"Thank you for thinking so highly of me." Then he considered. "And stop tracking my love life. It's creepy."

"Just _adorable_ ," she said again, almost delighted. "I really must have a chat with Michael. Anyone who gets you this flustered..."

"This conversation did not go how I wanted it to," he grumped. 

"I live to serve." 

***

Chris moved to Detmer's station, studying the readouts over her shoulder. The numbers didn't make any more sense than the daunting green phenomenon on screen. "Any idea what it is?" he asked, frowning. 

"Some kind of sub-space anomaly, but beyond that..." Detmer trailed off, the sensor readings flying by almost faster than anyone could process. He trusted her to figure it out. 

"Let's keep a wide berth," he said, turning to head back to his chair—

Michael instantly looked down to her station, like she'd been caught at something, embarrassment hovering around her eyes. What had she been—

Oh. 

Chris swallowed as he took his seat, his mind filling in the blanks from Michael's perspective—him, leaning down over Detmer. Tilly's words rushed back to him— _she is totally transfixed by your ass_ —and Chris shifted in the chair, heat slipping through him. 

He shut it down instantly. He didn't need to be contemplating any of this while wearing uniform pants, _thank you_. 

But even as he ruthlessly quashed his body's response...a little pleased spark flared bright. 

He quashed that, too. No need to get his hopes up. There had been quite enough of that. 

***

Tilly caught up to him on his morning run, already breathing hard. "Jeez, you run fast. Give a girl a break, would ya?"

Chris slowed, looking around to make sure no one could overhear and lowering his voice anyway. "What did you say to her?" 

"I mean, I may have gotten a little flowery extolling the virtues of your ass. Why? Did it work?" she asked, like this was just occurring to her.

"Every time she looks at me, she flushes and looks away."

"Oh, I am good," Tilly crowed. 

"Ensign," he warned. 

"What? I told you I'd handle it. What did you think I meant?"

"I don't—setting up a dinner?" he guessed. He hadn't really thought through the particulars. 

"That wouldn't help. She doesn't need to think of dinner or chess or talking. She needs to know you are someone she can take for a _ride_ ," Tilly said, making a faintly scandalous hand gesture. Chris was glad he was already flushed from his run. 

"I am regretting everything about this," he muttered. 

"You'll thank me later," she said, cheerful, jogging away with an unrepentant grin.

***

"You've been in an odd mood," Kat said, studying him. They were closing out the day in his ready room, Kat visiting yet again—she was keeping a close eye on the _Discovery_ , he noted. It was probably wise. 

"Have I?" he asked, a dodge and he knew it. 

So did she. "You know you have. You're not thinking of quitting again, are you?" she asked in her usual frank way, cutting through the bullshit. It was one of the things he appreciated about her. Usually. 

"No, nothing like that." In truth, he'd never felt more engaged with Starfleet, with his mission. With his crew. 

Thus, the problem. 

Kat raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his continued dodging, so Chris sighed. "Off the record?"

She plucked her badge from her uniform and tossed it on his desk, sitting back and settling in. 

Chris shot her a look— _really?—_ but didn't comment. "I asked out one of my officers."

Kat's expression went speculative as she did the math on that. "Burnham," she deduced, nodding to herself, like this only made sense. 

Chris' eyebrows rose. "Please tell me I'm not that transparent." Did _everyone_ see it?

Kat shook her head. "You have an entirely predictable attraction to honor. Burnham goes a little far with it sometimes, but she holds it sacrosanct."

Chris disagreed that you could go too far with honor, but he and Kat had been through that debate before and their respective positions weren't about to change. 

"Is the problem that she said yes or that she said no?" Kat asked, keen. 

"It's still in limbo. The problem is that I realized only after the fact that this..." he trailed off, searching for the words. "This might hurt," he decided. 

"And this surprised you?"

"It was a spur of the moment thing," he said, shaking his head at himself. Really, being impulsive. What _was_ he thinking?

Kat's expression softened. "Opening yourself up to a relationship means opening yourself up to vulnerability. On some level, you must have known that. Some part of you must value the connection over the cost."

"Yeah," he said, low, thinking of her eyes on him, of the little thrill he hadn't felt in so long. 

"It's a good thing, you know," Kat offered, like it needed to be said. "Whichever way it goes."

Chris shook his head. "You and Una."

She smiled a little. "Una's a wise woman." Then she softened again. "Talos was a clusterfuck, we both know that, but it shouldn't keep you from intimacy. Not forever. You deserve more than that."

The daunting thing was he hadn't _wanted_ anything more. And then he met Michael Burnham.

"It adds a lot of pressure," he admitted. 

Kat nodded. "That's understandable. But look, you're not marrying her. See how it goes."

" _If_ it goes," he muttered, that still very uncertain.

Oddly, that made Kat smile. "Have some faith, Chris."

***

Another day, another run, another visit from Tilly. Apparently this was a thing they were doing now. 

Something about it bothered Chris. 

"You need to touch her," Tilly said, huffing along. 

"I make it a policy not to touch women without their permission."

Tilly waved him to a stop, catching her breath. "And from the rest of womankind, we thank you. But Michael's different. She's bad with feelings, and avoids words, but one language she absolutely understands is touch. People tend to stay hands off because of the Vulcan thing. And, well, her body language kinda screams, 'do not approach.'"

"And your solution is for me to violate that," he said, deadpan. 

"Whoa there, drama queen. We are talking about someone modeling behavior from a touch-telepathic species where propriety means hands off. But that's not Michael; she craves it. She just needs permission first." 

It made sense, and he believed her, but his discomfort finally sharpened into something he couldn't ignore. "I don't want to do this anymore," Chris said, short. 

"Michael? Why?" Tilly asked, confusion merging into alarm. 

"No, this," he said, gesturing between them. "It feels manipulative."

Tilly waved an airy hand, like that was nothing. "Oh, my god, it's so not. We're just giving her a nudge."

Chris frowned. "She can make up her own damn mind."

"Not if she doesn't know there's a decision to be made," Tilly said reasonably. "Just trust me."

With that, she jogged off, supremely unconcerned. 

Chris stewed over it, that nagging feeling of doing something wrong not settling. 

He didn't like it. 

***

The next day when he walked into the sparring gym, he found Michael working at one of the heavy bags, rattling it back and forth with the force of her punches. Chris' eyes flicked down her form-fitting sparring suit...and then he chastised himself. His attraction to her was deeply challenging sometimes, but he had more control than this. He should act like it. 

At least he was wearing loose sparring shorts. That was something. 

He moved around her to the bag, nodding in greeting as he braced it.

Michael paused for a beat. "Captain," she said, ever correct, before starting her punches again. They landed hard, Michael putting muscle behind it. But as Chris watched, every so often she lifted her hips as she threw a punch. 

She clearly didn't know she was doing it, a common mistake even among seasoned fighters. Chris considered...and Tilly's voice rang in his ears again— _you need to touch her_.

"Hang on," he called, moving back from the bag and stepping around it to stand by her side. 

Michael stepped back, attention on him, sweat glistening. He could smell her this close, enticing, but Chris shoved that distraction aside. 

"You're lifting your hips every fourth jab or so," he said, tapping quick fingers to her hip, illustrative.

Michael stilled almost imperceptibly before rolling with it. "I wasn't aware."

"I figured. Make sure you're dropping down, grounding yourself," Chris said, demonstrating dropping his hips as he jabbed. 

Michael's eyes flicked from his hips back to his face, something working underneath her calm façade. She followed his lead, practicing her jabs, dropping down time after time. 

Chris nodded. "Good." 

Then she punched forward, lifting her hips again and he called out, "Ah." He leaned in and tapped that hip again, a reminder. "It's when you get distracted, I think."

In that case, because she'd been distracted by _him_. Chris tried not to let that thought run away with itself. 

Michael nodded, stiff. "Got it, sir. I'll make sure to focus better."

Chris nodded and headed back behind the bag, bracing it once more. 

Michael didn't look at him at all. 

***

"What'd you do?" Tilly asked, catching Chris as he headed toward the mess. 

"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused. 

She pulled him into an alcove, brow furrowed. "Michael keeps looking at me all shifty, starting to say something, until she stops and looks away. I figured, you know. You did something."

Something pleased slipped through him at that idea, but he quickly set it aside. "Ahh, that's—like I said, I don't think we should discuss this further."

"Oh, my god, you're gonna hold out on me?" Tilly asked, like it was a personal betrayal. 

"If you want to know about your friend, you should talk to her," he said with a smile, tipping his head before he continued on to lunch. 

***

Chris was so deep in requisitions he barely noticed when his ready room door chimed. He granted entrance absently. 

"Sir, can I speak to you about a somewhat delicate matter?" Michael's voice _snapped_ his head up, Chris meeting her eyes, that flustered feeling slipping through him. He hated being caught off guard around her. 

He quickly schooled his expression and nodded, setting his PADD aside. "Of course. What's up?"

"It's about Ensign Tilly, sir."

Chris frowned. "Is she all right?"

Michael's eyes shifted away, almost uncomfortable. Interesting. "Well, yes. I mean, in a manner of speaking."

"I don't follow."

Michael met his gaze then, like she was braving something. "It seems she has developed...a bit of a crush on you, sir. It's persistent enough to be distracting her from her work. I thought perhaps you could talk to her—"

"Oh, for God's sake," Chris muttered. 

Michael's eyes widened. "Sir?"

"Tilly doesn't have a crush on me, Michael," he said, long-suffering. Chris had to marvel at the irony of it all, the perfect cosmic joke. And one he deserved. He never should have allowed Tilly to meddle. He should have followed his gut, taken the no, and moved on. 

Her tone went careful, like she was worried she'd offended him somehow: "I don't mean to be blunt, sir, but she's had some...colorful commentary that would suggest otherwise."

"Oh, I've _heard_. Quite against my will, I would add."

"So don't you think it would help to discuss it with her? You could let her down easy," Michael said, almost a hopeful lilt to it, but he couldn't focus on that. He needed to fix this. 

Chris sighed. There was no easy out for this. He might as well rip the bandage off. "Michael, she wasn't making such comments because she has a crush on me. She was doing it because she knows I asked you out and she wants you to see me in a different light."

Michael's eyes widened, visibly startled. "You asked me out?"

He took in her genuine surprise. "...huh. Guess she was right about that." 

Michael startled at that even more, so Chris explained: "She said you didn't know that you'd shot me down."

"You asked me out and I shot you down?" Michael asked, alarmed now. "When did this happen?"

"Engineering, last week?"

Michael shook her head. "I thought that was just—wait, you asked me out? As in, with romantic intentions?" she clarified, like that didn't compute. 

Chris stayed steady and even, ignoring the _thump thump thump_ of his heart. "Yes."

She stared at him. "You want some form of romantic relationship? With me?"

"Why do you seem surprised?" Chris asked, studying her. 

Michael started to say something, then stopped, a little helplessness leaking in. "It's just—I—from what I gather, I'm considered...a bit much." She said the last neutrally, like she had no emotional investment in what her peers thought of her. 

He softened, sympathizing. "I don't think that's true."

Michael looked at him like she was seeing him with new eyes. "I didn't know."

Chris smiled a little, letting her know it was okay. "I understand that now." And, because it needed to be said: "And I'm sorry about discussing this with Tilly. She sort of ambushed me at first, but I shouldn't have let it continue."

Michael shook her head, once, almost dismissive. "Oh, that's—no apology needed. I'm glad you did. I—the reality is—sometimes because of my upbringing I...miss things," she said and Chris could tell she was upset about that on some level, maybe one she didn't even recognize. "I trust Tilly implicitly; she would never do anything improper." Then she looked at him again, saying softer, "Nor would you."

"It felt like I did," he said, equally soft. 

Michael nodded, accepting and forgiving that in equal measure, releasing tension at the base of Chris' skull. He hadn't even realized that had been weighing on him so acutely. 

Michael swallowed, a hint of uncertainty shining through. "Can I—I need time to think," she said, hesitant, like he might reject the idea. 

Chris blinked, surprise making his gut churn. "Of course."

She nodded in thanks and turned, but then paused. "It's not a 'no,'" she added, like she wanted to make that clear. 

He could do nothing but nod dumbly and watch her walk out. 

***

Tilly caught up to Chris on his morning run, huffing, but not because of the exercise. "If you're gonna drop bombs, it's polite to give people a head's up."

"She thought you had a crush on me," he shot back, all the excuse he needed. 

Tilly went a little chagrined. "Yeah, I might have miscalculated there."

"Ya think?"

"She said you apologized for this." Tilly gestured between them. "I told you to trust me," she chastised.

Chris held out his hands. "I needed to make sure."

"Your sense of honor is something else. I would love to meet your mother," Tilly said, impassioned. 

Oh, God. "That is never happening."

Tilly's eyes lit up with glee. "I am so calling Una. This is going to be epic."

"Ensign."

"Nope, your captain's voice won't work on me, friend dating rules trump all," she chirped, pleased as pie. 

Chris ran a hand over his mouth. "Well, then, there should be no problem." Because he had heard nothing more from Michael, who maintained the perfect professional mask on the bridge and never looked at him otherwise. 

Not that Chris had noticed. 

Tilly clocked the shift in mood, sending him an encouraging smile. "I'm working on it."

Her quick retreat was a kindness he very much appreciated. 

***

Chris stared out at the stars at the end of another long day full of decisions and reports and nothing from Michael. 

In a way, silence was its own answer. He would need to find his way to accepting that. 

He looked down to his half-full drink, realizing he'd let himself hope again. He would have to content himself with knowing he'd done it the right way, in the end. And like Kat said, even the desire to connect was a good thing. It was progress. 

He just wished it felt like that. 

Chris frowned when the ready room door chimed. It was a little late. "Come in," he called. 

And _Michael_ walked in. 

He nodded in greeting, lifting his drink in offer. 

She shook her head, then launched right in. "Forgive the late hour. I found myself—I'd like some clarification on the personal matter we discussed a few days back," Michael said, obviously uncomfortable and making herself forge ahead. He smiled a little. She really was so brave. 

"Shoot," he said, keeping it easy, not wanting to add any pressure. 

"The last relationship I was in ended...poorly," she started, choosing her words with care. "It was very confusing for me, so I've found I value keeping things clear."

"You don't have to justify it, Michael. I'm an open book. Ask away."

Michael studied him, like she was gauging how truthful that was. "As we discussed, you want a romantic relationship with me, but I realized I was unclear on what form. So you want...to sleep with me?" she offered, like a guess.

"No," Chris said, soft.

Michael startled, like that made no sense. 

Which, to her, it probably didn't. "I want to date you, Michael. I don't just want sex. I'm not a casual relationship kinda guy. No judgment," he added, just to be clear. He didn't think that was her style, but you never knew. 

"But you're only on the _Discovery_ on a temporary basis. You could leave at any time." Chris studied her, realizing she was thinking about this in terms of duration. Not _if_. 

That traitorous hope started to bloom again. 

"True," he acknowledged, even. "Or Starfleet could want me to take over permanently. Or the ship could get destroyed and we all have to move on. I've found the future can never quite be predicted, so I like to grab onto good things while I can." He smiled, slight. "I think you're a good thing."

Her eyes were wide as she looked at him, like that was nowhere near what she thought he'd say. "But _why_ do you want to date me?" she asked, almost desperate to know. 

Chris blinked, not expecting that he'd have to justify his attraction. And didn't she know how amazing she was?

But hell. He could sing Michael Burnham's praises in his sleep. 

"You have one of the finest minds I have ever encountered. Your ideas are creative, surprising, but still somehow inevitable. I want to know everything you think. You make me laugh." He shrugged, clocking her stunned stare. "Not to mention, you're heart-stoppingly gorgeous."

That got a reaction, Michael flushing and looking down like no one had ever called her beautiful before. 

Idiots. The galaxy was full of idiots. 

"...oh." 

She didn't say anything after that, studying her hands like they might hold the answer. Chris let the silence settle around them, giving her the space to think. He supposed it would be something, to hear a potential suitor describe how you hung the moon. 

Eventually, she took a breath and looked at him again. "You know I miss things, right?"

"So I've gathered," he said, mild.

"I'm serious. I miss things. I missed you asking me out. I'm not...easy," she said, looking down again, like it was something she wrestled with. 

In some ways, being around her was the easiest thing he'd ever done. But he also understood her deeper concern. 

Chris set his drink down, moving to her. He brought a hand to her chin, tipping it up so she'd look at him. "We all have flaws. Blind spots. Pasts. Myself included," he said, firm. "That makes it sweeter."

She took a breath, the rush of air floating across his fingertips. "Then yes, I'd like to date you."

Chris marveled as a rush of affection and relief and _want_ flooded through him. "In that case, I'd love to hear more about your various jumps. Join me for dinner?"

Michael smiled. 

***

They actually did have that dinner, discussing the spore drive jumps. The problem was, those jumps had all been at war, their key to defeating the Klingons. 

It didn't exactly make for light flirty banter. But, well. They'd have to discuss it eventually. Might as well get into it from the start. 

"I wish I had been here," he confessed, low, noting how the mess hall had emptied, leaving only the two of them lingering. 

Michael shook her head. "I'm glad you were too far away. The idea that you might have gotten hurt or...that Spock might have—" She broke off, frowning. "I'm glad you weren't here to suffer for my mistake."

Chris winced. "The fact that I wasn't keeps me awake at night. And my crew."

"You followed your orders, even when it was hard. You did your duty," she insisted. 

"We stayed away while our brothers and sisters died. How would you feel? If Spock was out fighting a war you could take no part in?" he challenged, the guilt rising to the fore, as it always did. 

Michael frowned, clearly getting it. "At such times, logic wars with emotion in ways I find hard to reconcile."

Chris nodded, leaving it at that. It was complex and messy and there were no good answers. Much like life. 

But there was one thing he wanted to clarify: "And that war doesn't come down to your mistake."

Michael frowned, not understanding, so Chris continued on: "As easy as the great man theory of history seems, life doesn't work like that. These were complex societies, interacting in a dynamic environment based on their own histories. You, Michael Burnham, can't change all that. If you'd made the same choices, and we'd all been the best of friends, it would have been a blip, quickly moved past."

She smiled, tight. "I know what you're trying to do, but you can't deny that I was the spark."

Chris tipped his head in acknowledgment, but didn't bend to the larger point. "Yes, you happened to be this spark. But if not you, then someone else. The next week, the next month. Years of slights and microaggressions, misunderstandings and deceptions, those don't get wiped away unless both sides want them to. And they didn't." 

He let that land on her, expression soft. "I'm just sorry all the guilt landed on your shoulders."

Michael tilted her head. "It seems that forgiving our guilt is something we can both stand to work on."

"Maybe if we keep reminding each other, it'll stick," he joked, funny because it was never gonna happen.

"We can try," she offered, pushing her hand across the table to rest on his. Chris let his lips curve upward at the contact, tangling their fingers together. A simple thing, but warm. 

"I'm glad you're here now," she said, looking at him with the softest eyes. 

Chris looked back, unable to put this feeling into words. "Me, too."

***

Chris refused to let their next date descend into the same kind of heaviness. He grinned as he led Michael through the science bays, feeling her suspicious eyes on him. 

"You are far too pleased with yourself," she said. 

"Can't a man be happy?"

"You haven't been on the _Discovery_ for very long," she shot back. 

Chris leaned close, lowering his voice. "Well, I think we should change that." He clocked her indrawn breath as he pressed forward, leading her to one of the botanists' bays. It had been a chance discovery on his sleepless wanderings through the ship, so many sexier areas of science taking up all the oxygen that the obvious got overlooked. 

Chris was a big fan of appreciating the simple things. 

He opened the bay door with a flourish, gesturing Michael in first. 

"I never come down here," she murmured, walking past him. 

"Few do, or so I hear," he said, following her in—

To an explosion of color, orchids blooming in every possible space, a riot of beauty and simplicity and _life_. There were orchids of the purest white to the deepest pinks and purples and yellows, spotted, striped, multicolored, even orchids that looked like little monkey faces. Those freaked him out, actually, but he wasn't about to highlight that. 

Chris had seen it all, so he kept his eyes on Michael, watching as the surprise morphed into delight. The sight warmed him in ways he hadn't expected, like her pleasure compounded his own. 

"It's traditional to get the woman you're dating flowers, but I figure, go big or go home."

"You got me flowers," she said, looking over at him, charmed. 

"Well, technically Fatima did by growing them all, but I'm taking credit." 

"Oh, so I should be dating her?" Michael asked, innocent. 

Chris nodded. "Probably. I'm sure she's a way better person."

Michael stepped close, eyes gleaming. "You're not so bad," she said right before she leaned up to kiss him. 

Chris held very still, surprised that she'd made this move. Slowly, he leaned into her, kissing back, the barest brush of mouths, but even that small thing sent sensation sweeping through him. He brought a hand up to her cheek, pressing his fingertips there as he pulled back, smiling softly. Not bad for a first kiss.

Michael blinked at him, eyes steady on his face—

Then she pulled him back down, tilting her head and kissing him deeper, a firm press of mouths that woke his body up. Her tongue flicked at his bottom lip, a request. A goad. 

Chris groaned and wrapped his arms around her, opening his mouth against hers, the kiss turning real—hot and wet, sharing taste, Michael making little hungry sounds that shot straight through him. He explored her mouth, trying to coax more of those soft sounds from her. 

She didn't disappoint, swaying into him, pressing their bodies together. It shifted Chris's focus, the arousal sharp and shocking—he hadn't expected this, now. He hadn't expected this from her. 

Like she'd read that thought, Michael broke away, her lips swollen as she sucked in air, a vague embarrassment settling around her, as if that had gotten away from her. 

Chris loosened his hold, stroking a soothing hand up her back before he smiled again and stepped away. Right. Time to take the pressure off. 

He looked around, then nodded to the nearest bunch of orchids, small purple flowers that looked like flying ducks. "Given how difficult it is to raise orchids planetside, Fatima wanted to see how they'd fare in space under various stressors."

Michael released a relieved breath, like she knew she was being let off the hook and appreciated it. She nodded to the flowers. "So her mission is going poorly, then," she said, voice trying for dry and mostly succeeding. 

He quirked his lips up. "I don't know. I think things are going all right."

***

The same pattern repeated throughout the week. Chris and Michael would do something together—everything from sparring to chess to leveraging a planned gravsync maintenance outage to play a game of who could eat the most popcorn without hands (Michael won by calculating the air flow circulation rate in her head because of course she did)—she would make some sort of move and then put a stop to it, always disengaging with some kind of hovering worry. 

Chris didn't push it, figuring she'd talk to him when she was ready. 

He didn't figure on Tilly. 

"Remember the Shmulcans?" Tilly asked brightly, sitting down at his table in the mess, her omelet seeming forgotten on her plate. 

"How could I forget?"

"Funny thing about telepathic robots. They experience intimacy entirely through sharing emotions. Humans need not apply."

Chris frowned, playing out the implications. "Was she that isolated?"

"Sure was," Tilly said, her bright cheer covering a kind of horror that Chris was starting to feel echo in his own gut. "You know, what with the assassination attempts and robots feeling threatened that a lowly human was outperforming them. So she wound herself even more tightly, never giving an inch, even when she came back to her own people."

He considered that. It meant Michael was very likely a 23-year-old virgin when she started her assignment on the _Shenzhou_. The sex was hardly the most important thing—though that would certainly have excluded her from the bacchanalia that was the lower decks—but not knowing how to make those intimate connections...that was troubling. No wonder she missed things. 

Chris idly wondered how Philippa handled it, if she'd gently nudged Michael toward the more worthwhile of partners. That would have been classic Philippa, but given the push-pull he was currently in the middle of with Michael, he wondered if she'd gone principled about it and resisted. 

But that was something to consider another time. Tilly was here because of current events, he presumed. "I don't think she's jerking me around," he said, kind. 

Tilly went faintly relieved at that, which, if Chris thought about it for too long, might actually start to get insulting. "Really?" he asked. 

"She's just worried, I think. She doesn't know how to do this. She just stumbled into bed with those other guys and Tyler was pushy." Chris frowned at that, but Tilly held up a hand. "Not abusively so, just uncompromising. I don't know the details; Michael and I have different ideas about sharing."

"Imagine that." He sighed. "Look, I'll meet her halfway. We can do, or not do, whatever she wants, but she needs to talk to me."

***

Given that prelude, it wasn't entirely surprising when Michael found him in his ready room, clearly wanting to talk while simultaneously wanting to do anything but talk about this. 

But she forged ahead.

"I've been having some...concerns about advancing our relationship. Physically," she added, like she needed to make that clear. She tended to get more clinical about things when she was uncomfortable, he'd noticed. 

Chris nodded, coming around his desk to lean back against it, facing her on her level. He didn't want it to feel official or like there was a power imbalance here. "What are your concerns?" 

"I don't have a lot of experience," Michael said, stiff. 

Chris simply tilted his head. "Okay."

Michael blinked, like she hadn't expected that. "What experience I have...I don't think would be up to your standards."

"Sweet Jesus, what are people saying about me?"

She flushed. "That's not—what I meant is you've lived more of a life than I have. Your experiences would have been more...varied."

Chris studied her. "That's an assumption. For all you know, I took a vow of celibacy upon joining Starfleet."

Michael looked at him with the most glorious _bullshit_ expression Chris had to smile, rueful, even as she said, " _Did_ you take a vow of celibacy?"

"No," he admitted.

"Then the point stands."

Chris sighed. "I understand where you're coming from here, but I don't think there's a right level of experience. Have I had my fair share of sexual partners? Yes. Have I been banging my way through the galaxy? God no. What matters is I care about _you_."

She looked down. "I don't want you to be disappointed."

In that moment, Chris hated every single person who'd ever made her feel like she wasn't good enough exactly as she was. 

But he kept that off his face, reaching out and taking her hand. He brought it to his mouth, kissing lightly. "The only bad sex I've ever had has come from miscommunication." He caught her gaze, trying to put reassurance into it. "As long as you talk to me, I think we'll be okay."

After a moment, Michael nodded. 

Chris nodded back. "Good. And hell, I think this is putting way too much pressure on things anyway. There's no need to rush."

Michael looked at him seriously. "If we don't have sex soon, I am going to crawl out of my skin."

***

Which was how Chris found himself hustled back toward his own bedroom, the two of them kissing messily, Michael approaching this with the kind of single-minded focus he'd only ever seen her apply to science or saving people's lives. 

He wondered which one this was. 

That thought got lost as her quick fingers unzipped his jacket and shoved it away, stripping his shirt off, breaking their kiss. 

He hissed when her hands dropped to his pants, but Michael didn't get distracted, making quick work of the clasp, shoving them down and ordering, "Off."

"Yes, ma'am." Chris stripped the rest of the way, easing his underwear off carefully, his cock already hard and wanting. Jesus, he hadn't been this turned on in years. 

When he was finally naked, Michael shoved him back onto the bed, crawling after him. She'd lost most of her clothes, but still wore her bra and panties. Shame. He'd wanted to peel the rest off her. 

That thought got wiped away as Michael set to exploring, hands moving everywhere as she kissed her way across his chest. 

" _Michael_ ," he hissed as she licked at his nipple. She looked up at him with a teasing grin, then leaned down again to bite, the feeling going straight to his cock. 

She sat up then, perching herself on his thighs. She looked glorious like this, lips bruised and eyes dark, wholly in control. His cock _pulsed_ as the corners of her mouth curled up.

God, he was ready to roll over and beg for her, if she only asked. 

But she didn't. She was still playing. Michael traced her fingers over the muscles in his stomach to the line of his hip. One hand braced on his belly as she wrapped the other around his cock. Chris cried out, wordless, fire shooting through him as she stroked him, _slow_ , like she was figuring out how he worked.

Chris gritted his teeth and panted as she set up a rhythm, his cock jerking in her grip. She flashed a small smile at him, seeming delighted. 

That sent a rush of heat through him, _too good_ , and Chris growled, rolling them, Michael losing her grip. 

"What?" she asked, voice breathy, but there was an uncertain note to it.

"My turn," he rumbled, reassuring, leaning down for her mouth, his fingers working their way under her clothes. 

He stripped her underwear off as she tried to press against him, making more of those soft noises he was starting to recognize, the ones that drove him absolutely _insane_. 

Finally, she was naked and he had hands on her, tracing her curves, endless silky skin for him to nip at. His cock was still hard against his thigh, but he ignored it, mouthing down to her breast and sucking a nipple into his mouth, her whole body jolting underneath him. 

He took his time mapping her body with his tongue, Michael shivering and moving against him, halting at first, but more assured as she settled into it. She gasped when he slipped two fingers into her, surging toward him, trying to get more. 

Chris thrust his fingers slowly, brushing his thumb over her clit every so often. She was gloriously wet, fluttering around his fingers. He tried not to think about what that would feel like around his cock. 

Michael moaned and bucked underneath him, pulling his mouth back to hers, kissing him like she didn't need air. Chris sped up his hand, wondering if he could bring her off like this—

And she tensed all over...not in the good way. 

Chris stilled immediately, pulling back from the kiss. "You okay?" he panted, confused. 

Breathless, Michael nodded. "Of course." But he could still feel how tense she was everywhere they touched, Chris pressed along the whole line of her body, his hand still between her legs.

Chris shifted back, opening up a space between them, concerned now. Something was clearly wrong. "Do you want to stop?" he asked, hazarding a guess. Sometimes it got weird, but asking to stop seemed impossible; Chris didn't want it to be like that. 

"No," she said instantly, a hand darting out to anchor at the back of his neck, keeping him close. Then she repeated it, quieter: "No."

"Please tell me," he said, soft. 

She flushed and looked away. "It was...the sound," she finally admitted, like she was embarrassed.

"The sound," he repeated, urging her on, not understanding.

Michael looked back to him. "Your fingers."

It brought his focus back to the hand he had between her legs, Michael warm and wet around his fingers, muscles still clenching around them every so often. He'd been wondering if he could get her off...

And then he got it. 

He leaned close, staring into her eyes. "You mean how hot it is that you're this wet for me," he rumbled, thrusting in again, hearing the wet slide of his fingers into her. He hadn't even clocked it above the sounds she'd been making, of his heart beating in his ears. 

Michael flushed again, even as she moaned, some of the tension leaving her. But not all of it. "It's..." she trailed off, shaking her head. 

"Insanely hot," he offered. He kissed her again, feeling the rest of the tension leave her, his fingers moving rhythmically, wringing a cry of pleasure from her. Clearly, he needed to up his game. If she was still able to think, he just wasn't doing his best here. 

Chris set about changing that, hand playing over her, mouth taking hers again, Michael abandoning herself to it. She gripped his shoulders, making noise into his mouth, helpless little mewls that went straight to his cock.

Eventually the fingers digging into his muscles got insistent, Michael pulling back to gasp against his mouth. "Inside me. Please," she said, ragged.

"Yeah," he breathed against her lips, pulling his fingers out and using that hand to shift her thigh open further. He moved, guiding his cock into position, the feeling of her against him making him moan. 

Chris pulled back to watch her face as he sank inside her, groaning at the _warmth_ and _wet_ and _fuck_. Michael's eyes fluttered closed as she made a high sound in the back of her throat, her thighs coming up around him, legs squeezing him tight.

He stilled when he bottomed out, trying to get a handle on himself, the feeling of Michael's body pulsing around him already too much.

She opened her eyes, legs urging him on, and Chris could do nothing but flex into her, both of them moaning as the pleasure swept through them. Chris found her mouth again, grinding into her, already too far gone for what he wanted. Dammit. 

Michael kissed him, nails digging into his back with abandon, moaning freely. 

He shifted back so he could thrust in earnest, setting up a rhythm that sent fire racing down his spine. The pleasure burned bright, tangible. It'd been a while. 

The next time he bottomed out, she gripped him tight, stilling him. "Okay?" he asked, panting, his voice shot.

Her eyes found his, pupils dilated. "I want—" she panted, shaking her head. 

"Anything," he moaned, the heat of her driving him _out of his mind_. "Anything you want."

She nudged him over and it finally clicked, Michael urging him to roll them. He did, taking her with him, both moaning as she settled even deeper onto him. 

Of course she wanted to be on top.

Chris breathed out as she shoved herself down onto his cock over and over again, keening high in her throat. One small part of him was vindicated—she wasn't thinking about how things sounded now—but mostly, the image was enough to have him gripping her thighs tight, so close to the edge he was suddenly shaking with it. He pressed himself up to sitting, getting one arm around her, bracing her as his other hand moved between them to touch her again.

" _Chris_ ," Michael called out, past coherence, eyes fluttering closed as her expression shattered. She clung to him, her body gripping tight—

And suddenly he was flying, pleasure shooting through him, Chris moaning into her mouth as he came in long pulses, the feeling of Michael tightening around him _burning_ along his nerve endings. 

Chris panted against her shoulder, his arms shaking, feeling Michael's body still fluttering around him. Every muscle felt strung out and exhausted, pleasure stealing his breath. 

Michael was slumped, arms still wrapped around him, sweat slicking her skin, seeming content not to move. 

With a groan, Chris tipped them over onto their sides, slipping out of her and curling close.

Michael made a pleased noise, nuzzling into his shoulder, and something about that shot visceral _satisfaction_ through him. It was base, a kind of primal pleasure at getting her off, and it made him want to roll over and do it again. 

His mother always had called him goal-oriented. 

Chris snorted at the thought.

It roused Michael, shifting against him. "Hmm?"

"It's nothing," he said, running soothing fingers down her side to her hip, then back again. Her skin was a marvel.

"Tell me," she said, her voice sex-drenched and rough. 

Chris met her eyes. "I was just thinking how I'd like to spend an inordinate amount of time getting you off."

Michael's eyes widened as her body shivered. Chris felt his own responding, want tingling again at the idea that he could affect her with mere words. 

"Yes, please," she finally managed. 

"Since you asked so nicely," he murmured, pressing her back. 

***

The soft beep of the comm system pulled Chris from sleep, Bryce's apologetic voice ringing out: "Bryce to Captain Pike."

Chris sat up, the sheets sliding over his naked body teasingly. He kept his voice low as he responded. "Pike here."

"Admiral Cornwell for you, sir." Chris sighed. It would take him a while to get dressed and to his ready room.

"Give me a minute and then put it through to the office in my quarters."

"Yes, sir." 

Chris checked on Michael, who was still dead to the world. It shouldn't send a little thrill through him; it did anyway. He'd made sure that he was...thorough. 

He pulled on his sleep pants and a shirt. Kat would know just by looking at him that she woke him up; no use hiding it with ceremony.

After closing the door to the bedroom, he moved to his desk area, finding her hologram already waiting. She frowned at him a little. "You're usually up at this hour."

"Long night," he said, shrugging it off. "What's up?

"Your people need to calm down with the sex."

Something _pulsed_ low in his gut. How could she possibly—

And then his brain caught up to the proceedings. He rolled his eyes at Kat. "I see you got my requisition requests." 

"I can't take this to the Admiralty. First they'll mock me, then they'll say it undermines good order and discipline."

"My people multitask," he said, deadpan. "Besides, isn't this why you get paid the big bucks?"

"That's not even a thing anymore."

"Did you call just to make fun of my requisitions?"

"Isn't that why you highlighted them for me?" she asked, dry. 

Chris grinned, but before he could volley back—

His bedroom door opened, Michael appearing at the threshold, pulling up short at seeing Kat. She'd found one of his shirts, though it still only came up to the tops of her thighs. The sight of it sent a jolt of heat sizzling through him. 

Kat didn't skip a beat: "Long night," she threw back at him. Even through the hologram, he could see the amused twitch to her lips. 

"Was there anything else?"

"Nothing that can't wait." Then she paused, softening. "Stepping out of one's comfort zone is tremendously hard. I'm happy for you."

With that, she ended the call. 

Michael looked to Chris, slightly embarrassed, but also curious. "What was that about?"

Chris shook his head and moved to her, pulling her close. "We're lucky to have people who care about us."

Michael leaned into it. "We are." Then she pulled away slightly. "Speaking of, your first officer and I keep missing each other. Any idea why she's calling?"

He groaned. "I take it back. They're meddling meddlers who meddle and they'll all be the death of me."

Michael laughed.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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